


May I be your shield?

by Elisexyz



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Bromance, Can be read as pre-slash too, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt!Harvey, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, caring!mike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-16 20:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9288071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Harvey tries to talk his way out of an armed robbery, a gun goes off and Mike probably loses ten years of his life. The aftermath.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Well. This is a simple hurt/comfort fanfiction. This fandom is full of Mike whump and I _love_ it, because protective!Harvey is my jam. But I love hurt!Harvey just as much, so I obviously end up writing about it, since I rarely can read about it.  
>  I won't pretend this is anything too profound: just around 10k words of Harvey being not-too-okay, Mike trying to recover from an emotional trauma while simoultaneously taking care of Harvey and them being cute and domestic together. That's it. ~~Well, there's also the fact that this fic has been rotting in my drafts for about a month and I am still not sure about publishing it, but. Whatever.~~  
>  The story is placed after Rachel cheated on Mike and he went to Harvey for shelter. When I started planning this fic I meant to show Rachel calling and Mike kind of closing the relationship/ignoring the calls/I don't know. I wanted to give a little space to a proper closure for Mike and Rachel, basically. But Mike had more important shit to worry about and I wasn't too interested in inserting some background Mike/Rachel (it would have been a subplot not functional for the actual "plot", it would have had no impact on Harvey and Mike's relationship at this point), so I didn't do it. You can imagine them finish it off in the blank spaces of the fic, if you want, or you can imagine that they'll get back together after things have cooled off a bit.  
>  The title is a quote from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZlFqz7NnoX4).  
>  **Warning** : I have little to none medical knowledge. I tried to back this up with research on the Internet, but I am really no doctor and I've never been particularly interested in medicine. So. There are probably some people among you who know more than I do. Please, don't hate me if I wrote any nonsense.  
>  But if you _do_ want to yell at me, you can find me [here on Tumblr](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com).  
>    
>  This story is now available in Chinese [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11977791), thanks to clairelight. ~~I'm screaming internally~~. 

“You know, I preferred you when you were on heavy drugs.” Mike mumbled, smiling politely at the nurse who had kindly opened the door for them. Harvey wasn’t _that_ tall or big, but he was fucking heavy: Mike couldn’t wait for him to be sitting in the car, instead of on a wheelchair that he had the honour of pushing.

“And I preferred when I wasn’t being babied by an idiot.” Harvey replied, looking around, probably to spot Ray. There were many cars in front of the hospital, it wasn’t likely that he had been able to park right in front of the exit, much to Mike’s disappointment.

“I am not _babying_ you.” Mike snorted. “It’s hospital policy.”

“I was shot in my _shoulder_ , I don’t walk on my arms.” Harvey protested. Mike curved a little towards him, trying to use his own weight to help pushing on the unideal ground. He swallowed, hating the simplicity with which Harvey was able to state what had happened to him: Mike couldn’t stop reliving the whole thing whenever he closed his eyes, and it would have taken a massive effort to actually spit out the ‘s’ word.

“Hey, if you feel like complaining, I won’t stop you from going to Jessica. You are pretty heavy.” Mike stated, searching for Ray with his eyes. He finally spotted the black car and its driver – thankfully Ray had decided to stand next to it: Mike wasn’t good at recognizing cars and there were far too many of them in that place.

“They’re called muscles, Mike, you would know if you weren’t so skinny.” Harvey teased him. Mike didn’t miss how he avoided commenting on the part about Jessica: she had been really worried about him – which had been pretty shocking for Mike, he had never seen her lose her cool like that – and she had ordered for him to take at the very least two weeks off, she had booked rehabilitation for his shoulder and she had made sure that Mike was going to stick around for a while, or she would have found him another roommate.

Fortunately, Mike was in no rush to leave: he hadn’t really had the time to think about his relationship with Rachel, let alone about how to fix it. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to fix it to begin with, he wasn’t sure he could see a future with her anymore.

The worst part of it was that he didn’t care as much as he was supposed to: whenever his thoughts went to her, he was distracted by Harvey, or by unwanted memories of what had happened, sometimes even by work. The only future he could concentrate on right now was the one in which he helped Harvey get better, and maybe finally managed to swallow all that guilt and get a good night of sleep.

When they got to the car, Mike moved to offer Harvey a hand, which granted him an awful glare that convinced him to step back, even if he didn’t move too far, afraid that Harvey would need his help in spite of his stubbornness. And really, he thought he was more than justified: Harvey had gone through surgery not too many days before, while Mike was sitting in a waiting room with blood all over his hands and tears stuck behind his eyes.

It hadn’t been too bad – at least, Harvey had been conscious and his usual self after getting hurt: he had cursed and told him to take off his jacket to put pressure on the wound, he had even promised that he’d buy him a new, _decent_ one -, but still, there had been so much blood and Mike just started remembering statistics and pictures of gunshot victims who couldn’t make it – _“Mike, goddamnit, snap out of it, I’m fine, I just need you to put pressure on this. Mike!”_

“I’m glad that you are going home, Harvey.” Ray smiled, as soon as they were all sitting in the car, Mike’s eyes glancing at the arm sling Harvey was wearing. He couldn’t wait for him to take it off: it was just an awful reminder.

“Me too.” Harvey sighed, shifting into a more comfortable position. Mike took his eyes away from him, focusing on the road as they headed towards Harvey’s apartment.

 

It didn’t occur to him until they were already on the front door and Mike was using his spare key to get into the apartment. He had about five seconds to realize that Harvey was going to kill him, resurrect him, and then kill him again: the usually perfectly clean apartment was a total _mess_.

To be fair, Mike’s had been worse when he lived on his own, but compared to how the place was supposed to be and considering Harvey’s fixation when it came to keeping his things in their place, that was a _massive_ problem.

As soon as Harvey stepped in and his eyes registered the scenery before him, Mike had already started listing his excuses in his head: he had left the hospital for about two hours, and just because Donna had threatened him, so he really had had no time to worry about the mess he was leaving behind as he quickly looked for something to eat that wasn’t coming out of a vending machine and he opened up his suitcase in the middle of the living room to find some clean clothes to wear, knocking down a vase in the meantime, because he was an idiot.

“What the Hell happened in here?!” Harvey barked, his head spinning towards Mike, who had closed the door behind them so that his screams as he’d get murdered wouldn’t bother the neighbours.

“I- Mmh- I was in a rush.” Mike explained. Or, more precisely, he had been so anxious about not being able to see Harvey and so eager to make sure that he was still breathing that he had messed up half of the kitchen just to get something to eat. And Harvey still had to see the bathroom: since the basket for the dirty laundry was full, Mike had left his bloody clothes on the ground, along with the towel he had used. He also hadn’t bothered to close any counters or to put back Harvey’s cologne – he had forgotten his at his and Rachel’s apartment – after he had used it.

“This – Harvey gestured with his healthy arm – isn’t being in a rush. It’s like a goddamn tornado stormed in here.”

“I am clumsy when I am nervous, alright?” Mike replied. “I’ll clean it up.”

“Yeah, starting now.” Harvey ordered, heading towards the couch, which fortunately hadn’t been touched when Mike had made his trip back home.

Mike wanted to argue that he was tired and that he wanted to watch some TV at least until dinner, but before Harvey had even reached the remote he remembered that the man had taken a fucking bullet because of him, so cleaning up was the least he could do.

 

“Mike, do me a favour.”

Mike, who was shoving his clothes and a towel – which was now bloody as well – in the sink, feeling nauseous as he realized that he would have had to clean it all up, shoved his head out of the bathroom. “What?”

Harvey gestured towards the phone. “Get the phone and order a pizza. Then get your ass in here, you have cleaned more today than you do in a year.”

It hadn’t even taken Mike that long to make the apartment presentable again, but he did feel exhausted and he also had the feeling that it was no coincidence that Harvey had made him stop right before he was about to start washing the blood.

“And that suit is going in the trash, don’t even think about reusing it. I’ll buy you a new one.” Harvey added, as if to confirm his thoughts. Mike smiled.

“Alright. Pizza it is. And for your information, that suit was worth 20.000 dollars.” Mike joked, heading towards the phone.

Harvey scoffed. “Yeah, sure. It was worth 200 dollars _at most_. But I am insanely generous, so I might even buy you a decent one.”

Mike smirked. Looking at Harvey, he found himself thinking that he was just so- _awesome_. He felt like he was exploding with affection, overwhelmed by the joy of having him _there_ , of being able to listen as he tried to mask his generosity with sarcasm. He felt the urge to tell Harvey how happy he felt to have him, but he bit his tongue, waiting for someone to answer the phone.

 

Mike didn’t want to go to sleep.

It was childish and stupid, but he was pretty sure that sleeping would have meant nightmares. It was only 10 pm, but Harvey had had to take his dosage of painkillers, so his eyes were drifting every three seconds.

Mike _really_ didn’t want to go to sleep, but Harvey would have never asked to interrupt the movie – as if admitting to be tired was some kind of shameful sin –, even if he looked like he was about to fall on the ground any moment, so Mike decided to ignore his childish fear and he announced: “I’m tired. How about we go to sleep?”

Harvey’s eyes opened immediately, pulling him out of the light sleep he had been falling into. “Mmh- Yeah.” He mumbled. He sounded half-dead.

Mike nodded, smiling slightly at the sight of sleepy Harvey. It was so uncommon to see him in a stance that could generate thoughts around the lines of “ _what a cutie_ ”.

He glanced at the TV as he was about to turn it off, but maybe he could have finished the movie, keeping it at a low volume, before going to sleep. Harvey probably wouldn’t have noticed: Mike was willing to bet that he would fall sound asleep as soon as he would lay on his bed.

“Alright.” Mike sighed, putting his arm around Harvey’s back to help him on his feet. Harvey was so tired that instead of protesting he leant on him, accepting the support as they slowly headed towards the bedroom.

“Just this once.” Harvey had the presence of mind to mumble.

Mike rolled his eyes. Arguing that there was no shame in asking for help after a trip to the hospital would have been useless because a) Harvey was probably too out of it to actually process anything Mike would say; b) even if Harvey _had_ been awake enough to listen, he probably wouldn’t have given a shit about Mike’s opinion on displays of weakness anyway.

So, he simply replied: “I know, I know, don’t worry about it.”

Harvey nodded. “Yeah, that’s right.” He mumbled.

Mike helped him on the bed, deciding that there was no need to make him change into a pyjama since he was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants: they were comfortable clothes, there was no need to go through a long, complicated and embarrassing struggle to undress his (ex) boss and then dress him up again. Not worth it.

Mike made sure that Harvey had settled under the sheets and he almost considered tucking him in, but then he decided that it wasn’t worth risking the possibility that Harvey would remember it and murder him the following morning for treating him like a little kid.

“’Night, Harvey.” He said, stepping away from the bed.

Harvey seemed to be already out if it and Mike envied him for not being obliged to think anymore.

 

 

-

 

_Mike couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man walking in front of them, nervously waving around his gun as a boy cried, not too far away from Mike. The boy couldn’t be more than twenty years old and he was holding a kid, who Mike guessed was his little brother or something. It was heart-breaking and frustrating at the same time, because the robber seemed to be on edge and the crying could have sent him off._

_Harvey was on his knees, like all of them, and that alone made Mike panic. But he looked calm and Mike could feel the heat of his leg against his own, and maybe Harvey got it covered, maybe he knew what to do, like always – God, Mike had never been taken hostage, what was he supposed to do?_

_There were police officers outside. Mike wondered what the Hell they were doing and why they weren’t helping them. He had seen a couple of cop shows and he guessed that they were probably studying the situation to come up with a plan that would allow them to get all the hostages out, but still he only wished for them to hurry up._

_The robber was so nervous and Mike was just praying that he wouldn’t snap. He was trembling from head to toe, he wanted to ask to Harvey what they were going to do, if they were going to die, and all sorts of stupid and childish questions that could give him the illusion that he had any control over what was happening. But the robber had screamed more than once that they needed to ‘shut the fuck up’ and Mike wasn’t going to piss him off even more._

_“Calm down, Mike.” Harvey whispered, much to Mike’s surprise. He turned towards him, only to find Harvey’s gaze fixed on the robber, to make sure that he wasn’t watching them. “You are going to be fine.”_

_“He has a_ gun _.” Mike replied bitterly. He wasn’t as comforted by the lie as he thought he’d be._

_“You are not getting shot on my watch.” Harvey assured. He was still looking at the robber, but that was the same expression Harvey had when he assured him that he’d deal with Jessica and that he wasn’t going to let him get fired._

_This time, he believed him immediately: he didn’t have much else to hold on to, and the last time Harvey had been true to his word, hadn’t he?_

_“Okay.” Mike whispered._

_Then the robber started to scream about getting out of there safely and needing an insurance. Before Mike knew it, the man’s gaze was scrolling through them. Then the robber was standing in front of him, holding a gun to his head and saying: “You! You, get up.”_

_Mike’s legs felt numb, he was about to throw up at the sight of the gun so close to his face. He had to get up. He kept telling his body to obey and get the fuck up, but his legs seemed frozen now, his body just wouldn’t listen to him. Then Harvey’s hand was on his shoulder to tell him to stay down and Harvey was standing in front of him, while the robber had taken a few steps back was waving around his gun, screaming at Harvey to go back with the others or he would kill him on the spot._

_Mike felt his blood run cold as he realized that Harvey was standing up, openly challenging an armed psycho._ Please, please, come back here, don’t get yourself killed, please.

_“I don’t think it would be convenient for you.” Harvey pointed out. He was holding his hands up and his voice was calm, non-threating, almost friendly. Mike just wanted him to shut up and go back with the other hostages, where he was just another face._

_“Shut up!” The man yelled. Mike flinched._

_“Hey, you have the gun, you are in control of the situation. What harm is there in hearing me out?” Harvey paused, but the robber didn’t speak this time. “I am a lawyer, and I can assure you that you aren’t into that much trouble. You have stolen what, two thousand dollars? You are armed, which will be a bit of an issue, but you haven’t shot anyone yet. If you don’t, you’ll get away with little jail time. But if you do shoot me or any of us, you’ll be in for life.”_

_“I can run away from here if I use him as a human shield!” The robber replied, gesturing towards Mike with his gun. Harvey shifted to cover him from the man’s gaze and it was only then that Mike actually realized what exactly Harvey was doing._ Shit _._

_“You have too many hostages in here for them to care about just one life. They’ll take you both out if necessary.” Harvey pointed out._

_Then it all happened too fast: a guy jumped from the crowd of hostages and tackled the robber, the gun went off and Harvey fell on the ground, as if someone had pushed him. Mike remembered hearing his own scream and seeing blood, so much blood that it was impossible to imagine that there was enough left in Harvey’s body._

Mike really should have seen it coming.

Lying on his back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, he couldn’t stop thinking that _he should have seen it coming_. After all, when Harvey had promised him that he ‘wasn’t getting fired on his watch’ he had gone ahead and put his job, his _life_ , on the line for a chance to keep Mike’s. Why hadn’t he guessed that ‘You are not getting shot on my watch’ would have meant that Harvey would have jumped in front of a bullet if necessary?

 _Why_ hadn’t it occurred to him?

He had just let Harvey take the lead, too scared and needy and paralyzed and _weak_ to even consider setting his head straight and do something himself. When Harvey had stood up, he had been terrified for his life, but he hadn’t _questioned_ him, he had done nothing to stop him. Even when he had realized that Harvey was standing in front of him like a fucking human shield, he had just sat there, trembling and trusting – hoping - that Harvey would have talked his way out of that one too.

And maybe he would have, hadn’t it been for that _idiot_ who had thought that jumping on a man whose finger was on the trigger would have been a good idea. He had restrained the robber while the police came in, but he was the reason why Harvey got shot. And the reporters called him _a hero_.

Mike felt a wave of anger rush through him, but it didn’t last long, because in his head the image of Harvey on the ground, grunting and grasping for air just wouldn’t go away. He felt tears burning in his eyes only thinking about it. He felt helpless and stupid.

 

_“You have to apply pressure, Mike.” Harvey said. He was so pale and he sounded so tired and there was so much blood. “Mike. Take off your jacket, I’ll buy you a new damn one. Probably a better one.”_

_Mike barely registered the joke. More than 30,000 people were killed by firearms each year in America. Firearms were the third-leading cause of injury-related deaths nationwide in 2010, following poisoning and motor vehicle accidents. Guns were used in 11,078 homicides in the U.S. in 2010, comprising almost 35% of all gun deaths, and over 68% of all homicides._

_“Mike, goddamnit, snap out of it, I’m fine, I just need you to put pressure on this. Mike!”_

_Harvey’s voice was trembling and Mike realized that he probably was in a lot of pain and that he wasn’t helping, just standing there, doing nothing. He couldn’t let Harvey die in front of him, he couldn’t let him become a statistic._

_Mike managed to nod and take off his jacket. He remembered Harvey grunting in pain and ordering him not to stop, saying again that at least he’d have a damn excuse to buy him a decent suit and then there were the paramedics and the ambulance and the hospital and the wait._

Mike felt the cold grip of fear squeezing his stomach. He felt like when he was a kid and he would wake up from a nightmare, frightened by something that he _knew_ wasn’t true and couldn’t harm him, but still left him with this sense of terror.

He knew that Harvey was okay, sleeping in his room, and that the following morning he would have been his usual, sarcastic and detached self. Still, he felt so anxious, as if he had been trapped in his own memories, as if Harvey had been still lying in front of him, bleeding and trying not to show how much pain he was in.

When he was a kid, Mike used to sneak into his parents’ room. He was in need of comfort, but he didn’t want to wake them, so he just sat beside their bed, listening to them breathing until he calmed down.

It took another thirty seconds trapped on that couch with his fear for Mike to decide to go check on Harvey. He sneaked into the room without making a sound, since the door had been left opened in case Harvey had needed any help, and he awkwardly stood in front of his bed, watching the sleeping figure before him.

He remembered that if you stared at people they could sense it, even in their sleep, and he didn’t want to wake Harvey up, so he looked away and started walking towards the bed. He quietly sat on the ground, his back resting against the bedside table, Harvey’s breath on his right, steady and very much _there_.

It was like some sort of more peaceful version of the time spent at the hospital: just like in there, Mike felt his muscles relax at the sound of Harvey’s breathing, as he kept reassuring himself that he was alive and that he wasn’t going to bleed out any time soon.

“What are you doing here?”

Mike almost jumped at the sound of Harvey’s voice.

“I-” He whispered, even if there was no point in keeping his voice low since they were the only two people in the house. Wait a second, wasn’t Harvey supposed to be resting anyway? “Why are you awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Harvey muttered. He sounded incredibly tired though.

Mike wondered if he was having flashbacks, just like him, if the memory of what happened was tormenting him – after all, Mike had seen him fall asleep immediately, and he couldn’t think of anything that could have woken him up other than nightmares.

But the painkillers were supposed to- _Shit_.

“Are you in pain?” Mike asked, anxiously. Shit, he had forgotten to leave other painkillers in the room, he had just assumed that the ones Harvey had taken before the pizza would have been enough to knock him out for the whole night, he hadn’t thought that he could have needed more.

“It’s bearable.” Harvey replied.

Mike wanted to slap him. Hard. “So _bearable_ that you are awake in the middle of the night even if you are obviously exhausted. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I thought you were sleeping, smartass.” Harvey said.

Mike appreciated the gesture, or at least he would have if he hadn’t been so busy scolding himself for forgetting the painkillers and blaming Harvey for not being smart enough to ask for help.

“I wasn’t, but even if I had been, you should have woken me up.” Mike pointed out. Harvey snorted. “Why are you whispering? It’s only us.”

“I don’t know, it’s night, people whisper at night.” Mike shrugged, forcing himself to use a normal tone of voice. He wasn’t sure that his explanation made too much sense, but it didn’t seem too important. “I’ll go get you some painkillers.”

Harvey briefly nodded and Mike turned his back on him, heading straight for the kitchen without turning the light on. He felt so comfortable in that apartment, it was so nice to feel at _home_ at Harvey’s place. It made him feel closer to him, it made him feel safe and happy, because even after his relationship with Rachel didn’t work out he still had a home to come back to.

He turned on the light to avoid spilling water all over the place – if he had tripped and bumped his head against the counter, they would have needed a third person to take of _both_ of them; also, he didn’t really feel like going back to the hospital -, he filled a glass and he grabbed the pills, making sure to take the whole box _and_ the bottle of water with him.

“Here you go.” He said, putting everything on the bedside table.

Harvey was having trouble sitting up, wincing whenever he tried to use his arms to force himself up. Mike didn’t wait for him to ask for help and he helped him straightening up, ignoring the not-so-pleased glance he received as a thank you.

He watched Harvey taking the pills and he helped him laying down again, realizing that it was time to say goodnight and go back on the couch. He didn’t like the idea of going back to reliving all over again the circumstances of Harvey’s injury, either in a dream or in his memories, but it wasn’t like he could just stare at Harvey as he tried to sleep.

“I’ll leave the painkillers there, alright?” He announced, pathetically trying to avoid loneliness for two seconds more.

Instead of answering, Harvey asked: “What were you even doing here?”

Mike was taken aback by the question: it probably did look a little weird from Harvey’s perspective, but he had kind of thought – or hoped – that he wouldn’t have tried to read into it. He had assumed that Harvey would have just dismissed it as Mike trying to baby him or something.

“I-” he tried to come up with a lie, but really, he was tired and it was late and he had no energy or reason to come up with some bullshit excuse or even a half-truth. “I couldn’t stop thinking about- About what happened, and I guess I needed to check up on you. I know it’s stupid-” He added, when Harvey frowned, making an expression that seemed sceptical to Mike. “-but I guess I needed to hear you breathing, or something. When I was a kid I used to sneak into my parents’ room after a nightmare and just sit on the ground to listen to them breathing. It- Helped.”

Harvey stared at him for a couple of seconds, and it was just enough to make Mike wish that he had said nothing and to make him consider the idea of just running away from the room. “Alright.” Harvey finally said. “You can stay.”

Mike blinked, surprised. Harvey was letting him stay. He smiled gratefully, attempting to sit on the ground.

“ _Not on the goddamn floor_.” Harvey stopped him, rolling his eyes.

“On your bed?” Mike asked, this time _beyond_ surprised. There was no way Harvey was inviting him to sleep on his bed.

“ _In_ my bed.” Harvey replied.

And now ‘surprised’ didn’t even _begin_ to cover how Mike was feeling.

“Are you- Are you serious?” Mike asked.

Harvey rolled his eyes once again. “I don’t know how fat you think I am, but I can sleep comfortably on one side of my bed. Now get the Hell in here before I change my mind.”

Mike nodded quickly, sliding under the covers still trying to make sense of the fact that Harvey was letting him sleep in his bed to calm him down. He was smiling like an idiot, but thankfully the light was off and Harvey probably couldn’t see him.

“Thank you.” Mike whispered.

“Yeah, don’t flatter yourself now, though. It’s not because-”

“-Not because you care, yeah. I have a hard time believing it after _for me_ you almost-” _Died_.

“It takes more than an idiot with a gun to free you from my awesomeness.” Harvey scoffed. “You, on the other hand, skinny as you are, would still be in a hospital bed right now.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mike paused. “I just- I was so scared that I would- That you-”

“What are you even worried about?” Harvey interrupted him. Mike was more thankful than offended, because the words didn’t seem to want to get out. “I am like Superman without the kryptonite. If anyone should be worried, that’d be _me_.”

“Louis says you are more of a Batman. And you do know that worrying implies caring, right?”  
“That’s why I _don’t_ worry.” Harvey replied, shifting under the sheets, probably in an attempt to get more comfortable.

“Yeah, we all know you don’t.” Mike mumbled. Frankly, at that point he had a hard time understanding how people generally couldn’t realize after a couple of weeks at most how much Harvey actually cared. Probably it wasn’t _that_ obvious for someone who didn’t know him too well, but _come on_ , the man was the most protective bastard Mike had ever seen.

“Harvey.” Mike called. He knew that the painkillers would kick in after half an hour, so he had to chat in that moment if he wanted to avoid sleeping for a little while longer – even if having Harvey next to him was incredibly reassuring, now he felt too awake to sleep, dammit.

“Yeah.” Harvey replied. He sounded annoyed, but just slightly, which was basically Harvey’s default tone, so Mike figured that he wasn’t bothering him too much.

“I…” He wasn’t really sure what he wanted to say. He wanted to talk with Harvey, to hear his voice, to let him know that he was _so_ glad that he was okay. Part of him would have also wanted to vomit all his fear, all the terrified thoughts that had run through his head, but on the other hand… He didn’t really feel like bringing that up. He just knew that he wanted to talk. “I’m happy that I tried to deal drugs that day.” He finally said.

It was a random confession in the middle of the night, but it was probably better than “oh my God, I was so scared that you could have died, let me tell you about my feelings” followed by an endless monologue about the mess that was Mike’s head.

Harvey didn’t reply right away, probably taken aback by the statement. He sighed.

“My shoulder probably wouldn’t share the sentiment.” He stated. Mike grinned: he loved it when he joked while keeping his serious tone on.

“But you do?” Mike prompted. As much as his tone was mocking, his heart started beating faster in anticipation, because he did hope that Harvey was a least a little bit grateful for that day too.

Harvey swallowed, which Mike was perfectly able to hear in the silent room, then he opened his mouth a couple of times, appearing to be fighting some kind of internal battle.

“Yeah.” He finally said. “Guess I do.”

Mike let go out a breath, nodding even if Harvey probably couldn’t hear him, and he shifted to lay on his side. He was now facing Harvey, who was laying on his back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Goodnight.” Mike mumbled.

“Goodnight.” Harvey replied. “If you start kicking, I’ll drop you on the floor.”

Mike chuckled.

 

 

-

 

Mike wasn’t sure what exactly had woken him up.

Maybe all the movement next to him, maybe Harvey’s suffocated moans, maybe some kind of sixth sense, but as a matter of fact Mike opened his eyes after a dreamless sleep that seemed to have lasted just a couple of minutes.

He squeezed his eyes, trying to make sense of what was going on around him, and it took him about twenty seconds to realize that he was in Harvey’s bed and that Harvey was currently shifting next to him, trying to not disturb him but failing miserably.

“Harvey?” Mike called. He wanted to turn on the light, but he wasn’t sure that blinding them both would have been a good idea.

Harvey swallowed a couple of times before mumbling: “’m gonna be sick.”

 _Shit_.

Mike jumped out of the bed. “Alright, just a second, okay?” He said, urgently.

Shit, the doctor had mentioned that one of the possible side effects of all the meds Harvey had been given could have been vomit, but he had seemed fine until that moment, Harvey hadn’t even _mentioned_ being sick, _what the fuck_.

Mike found the nearest thing able to hold somebody’s vomit without too much damage – the trash can – and jumped back on the bad, posing it on Harvey’s lap – he had somehow managed to sit up on his own, probably all the pained moans where due to that.

Mike swallowed as Harvey emptied his stomach in the trash bin, trying to not feel sick as well. He had laid a comforting hand on Harvey’s shoulder – the one which hadn’t been shot, of course -, rubbing him and trying to keep him from faceplanting on his own vomit.

When Harvey seemed to be done, at least for the moment, Mike quietly reached for the lamp, illuminating the room and- Well, he probably _shouldn’t_ have looked at the contents of the trash bin.

He swallowed again, fighting the urge to join the puking festival and focusing on Harvey’s face: he was pale and sweaty, and probably in a lot of pain too, since it was almost five in the morning and the painkillers’ effect was gone by now.

“Do you think you are done?” Mike asked. His hand was still rubbing Harvey’s shoulder, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“No idea.” Harvey replied. His voice was hoarse and thin.

“Do you still feel sick?” Mike asked.

“A little.”

Mike nodded. Well, probably keeping that trash bin there wasn’t a smart move.

“Will you be okay if I go and empty that thing in the bathroom?”

Harvey’s eyes stayed fixed on a random point on the wall, probably because he was smart enough to not look at what had just come out of his stomach, as he mumbled a ‘yes’.

Mike nodded, quickly standing up and taking the trash bin, gripping it by the edge because he was already disgusted enough without feeling the warm liquid through the bin – he had made that mistake once with Trevor, when he had been so drunk that he had puked all over their apartment, and Mike had almost vomited his own soul as well feeling the warmth though a damn basin.

He quickly emptied everything in the toilet, flashing the water and putting the plastic bag in the trash. He decided to take a couple of plastic bags from the kitchen, so that Harvey could still use the trash bin if he needed to.

“Here, take this” He said, sitting on the bed and handing the trash bin to Harvey, who put it on his left.

“Thanks.” He mumbled. His eyes were red strained and he was still too pale. Mike was afraid that he probably would have been sick again, sooner or later.

“Do you want some water?” He asked, even if he was pretty confident that the last thing Harvey wanted to do in that moment was putting a liquid in his stomach.

“ _No._ ” Harvey immediately replied, in fact.

Mike nodded, licking his lips. What now? Where they supposed to wait in silence until Harvey would feel better or be sick again?

Harvey was resting his back on the wall, attempting to not put too much pressure on his stomach, probably. He was taking deep breaths, but his face still looked like a mess, with his eyes red-strained and drops of sweat everywhere.

Mike really felt like he should have done something, but – fortunately? – he didn’t have to wait much longer, because Harvey’s eyes widened for a second as he gulped and quickly reached for the trash bin.

Harvey was now curved on the bin and Mike started rubbing his back, trying to help him through the shaky breaths he was taking between a retch and the other.

It took an hour and twenty minutes for Harvey to regain a little bit of colour on his face and to announce that he felt better. Mike left him sitting on the bed to go to put away the used plastic bags, and when he came back he helped Harvey to get on his feet so that he could go brush his teeth before attempting to get some more sleep.

Judging by the way he winced whenever he took a step, his shoulder must have been more than sore, but he didn’t know if it was wise to give him more painkillers at that point.

While Harvey was in the bathroom, Mike opened up his wardrobe to get him something else to wear: it probably wouldn’t have been great for him to keep his sweaty clothes on.

Harvey wasn’t too pleased when he realized that he needed help even to get dressed if he didn’t want to rip all his stitches and go back to the hospital while simultaneously dying of pain, but he surrendered pretty easily – if he felt half as bad as he looked, he was basically dead.

Mike felt his cheeks burning as he took Harvey’s shirt off, manoeuvring it carefully around his left arm to avoid hurting him, because all that felt so intimate and personal- It was also pretty nice, in spite of the circumstances. He felt kind of _privileged_ because Harvey trusted him to help during his time of need – alright, Jessica had demanded for him to be there, but let’s face it, not only Harvey had been the one to invite him to stay over in the first place, therefore letting him into his personal space, he also could have insisted on hiring a professional, a nurse, someone to take care of him properly; he hadn’t, he had simply accepted Mike’s help without putting on too much of a fight.

When Mike helped him settle under the covers, Harvey’s face twisted into a pained expression.

“Do you need to lay on your side or something?” Mike tried to ask. Maybe changing his position would have helped.

Harvey shook his head. “No, that doesn’t help. Get me a pillow.”

Mike frowned: Harvey hadn’t seemed more comfortable sitting than laying on the bed, he didn’t see how another pillow could have helped, but Harvey was giving him the ‘what the Hell are you waiting for?’ look, so he decided to do it without questioning.

He nodded, opening the wardrobe once again – he had seen a couple of spare pillows before – and handing one to Harvey.

“Put it under my back, vertically, I need it to support my right shoulder.” Harvey instructed. He seemed exhausted but more lucid than he had previously been.

Mike blinked, still pretty confused, but he obeyed, helping Harvey up and positioning the pillow under him. When Harvey laid down again, he seemed pretty relieved, as his left and injured shoulder wasn’t pressed against the mattress anymore.

“How did you know this?” Mike asked, impressed, sliding under the covers himself and reaching for the lamp.

“I used to play baseball, I have experience with injured shoulders.” Harvey explained. He sighed, probably trying to ignore the pain.

Mike instinctively rubbed his own shoulder. “We can watch a movie if you can’t sleep, maybe a distraction could help.” He suggested. It’s not like he wasn’t able to pull an all-nighter, after all.

“It’s fine.” Harvey replied. “I’ll manage to get some sleep.” He paused, swallowing uncomfortably. “Sorry for all this mess. You probably needed some more rest.”

Mike blinked, opening his mouth to reply but finding himself unable to express how _wrong_ that apology was. What was that supposed to mean? It was Mike’s fault in the first place, Harvey wouldn’t have been in that condition hadn’t it been for _him_ , the very _least_ Mike could do was sacrificing a couple of hours of sleep to help.

Mike decided to not even try to say all that, because, really, it would have sounded too sad and pathetic and Harvey would have probably laughed at his face – not without reason.

Instead, he mumbled: “I owe you.”

Harvey didn’t reply, and Mike rolled on his side, burying half of his face in the pillow as Harvey’s shape became blurred after a yawn.

“I owe you everything.”

Mike wasn’t sure if he had pronounced that last conscious thought out loud.

 

 

-

 

He woke up at the sound of his ringtone, coming from a distance but extremely loud anyway, because he had the habit of dropping his phone around and at least this way there was a better chance of him not missing the call.

The first thing he was aware of was the warmth under his palm: his right hand was resting on Harvey’s chest. Mike remembered vaguely waking up after a nightmare and frantically trying to listen to Harvey’s breath, ending up putting a hand on his chest. His muscles had relaxed immediately feeling Harvey’s chest raising and falling under his palm.

“Go turn that thing off.” Harvey mumbled.

Mike was taken aback by him being awake and he immediately removed his hand, but Harvey seemed more concerned with the ringing phone than with the way Mike had decided to invade his personal space during the night.

“Yeah, yeah.” Mike quickly replied, standing up and feeling dizzy for a couple of seconds, before standing on his feet and sprinting towards the phone, which had been left on the table in front of the couch.

“Hello?” Mike answered, without even checking the caller ID.

“ _What took you so long?”_ Donna asked.

Mike rubbed his face with his free hand, still trying to bring his brain to process that he was awake and he needed to think straight.

“We were sleeping.” He replied.

“ _It’s way past noon, Mike_.” Donna pointed out. It was only then that Mike noticed how bright the apartment actually was. Well, they hadn’t had much sleep during the night. “ _Wait a second,_ we _?”_ Donna added. “ _As in-_ Together _? In the bed?”_

Oh, shit. Harvey had let him stay in his bed, which had been a really nice gesture, but he surely would have murdered him, stitches or not, had Mike shared that particular information with anyone.

“On the couch.” Mike quickly lied. “We were watching a movie.”

“ _Sure_.” Donna replied. She didn’t sound convinced. It was probably time to start writing his will. “ _How is he?”_

“He has been sick tonight.” Mike explained. “I haven’t had the time to check how he is this morning yet.”

“ _Make sure he doesn’t try to walk around, he needs rest_.” Donna paused. “ _Do you boys need anything? Something to eat? Condoms?”_

After a moment of contemplation, Mike decided that commenting on the condoms would have been a bad idea, so he ignored the joke and asked Donna to bring them something to eat, because the fridge was almost empty and he suspected that Harvey would have needed something healthier than Mac and Cheese to regain strength.

As soon as the phone call was over, Mike headed back to the bedroom, finding Harvey still laying on his back, his eyes on the ceiling. They were red-strained and smaller than usual.

“Did you get any sleep tonight?” Mike frowned, feeling guilty for his hours of peaceful sleep.

“Some.” Harvey mumbled, covering his eyes with his healthy arm.

Had he spent the whole night staring at the ceiling? God, had he been awake when Mike had reached for his chest? He surely had noticed, since he apparently had been awake most of the time. He hadn’t murdered him on the spot, which was a good sign, but Mike was still pretty worried about eventual repercussions – and probably also a little embarrassed since it must have looked pretty pathetic.

“Listen, let’s give you some painkillers so you can get a little more sleep, alright?” Mike proposed. It had been pretty long since the last dosage, Harvey’s body should have been able to take it.

“No way.” Harvey replied, emerging from under his arm to glare at Mike. “No goddamn way I am taking that shit again.”

Mike rolled his eyes. He understood where he was coming from, but Harvey couldn’t seriously be considering just staying awake until he started hallucinating and eventually dropped unconscious on the floor.

“ _Harvey_ ,” Mike sighed. Staring at Harvey’s determined expression, Mike started to feel for his Grammy, remembering all the times she had had to make him take his meds. “you can’t sleep if your shoulder hurts too much, and you _need_ to sleep. Last time you took two dosages pretty close to each other _and_ your stomach was empty the second time.”

“Didn’t look empty to me.” Harvey mumbled.

Mike cracked a smile, even if there was nothing to laugh about. That shit was disgusting.

“Come on, I am a genius and I’ve read enough to know that I’m right.” Mike insisted.

Harvey raised his eyebrows. “Taking the fake-doctor route now?”

Mike grinned. “Yep. You are my lab rat.”

“Lucky me.”

In the end, Harvey agreed to eat something and to take the painkillers. They decided to stick with cereals and crackers with some water, and Harvey looked like the last thing he wanted to do was putting food into his stomach. His expression grew even more disgusted when he had to take the medicine.

“If you are wrong, I’m going to puke all over the floor just to make you clean it up.” Harvey warned, swallowing and glancing at Mike, the glass in front of him.

Mike really, _really_ hoped to be right, because Harvey totally didn’t look like he was joking.

 

 

-

 

“He’s asleep.” Mike said, putting the grocery bags on the counter.

Donna nodded. “I won’t wake him up. I’ll stick around for a while and keep you company.”

“It’s not necessary.” Mike replied.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted some company or not: he was tired, but he didn’t want to sleep and face his nightmares; he could have read some books that he had found in Harvey’s apartment, but his mind kept trying to distract him and make him focus on his memories of that day and would have been nice to have someone to talk to. At the same time, he didn’t really feel like having company.

“Mike,” Donna replied, getting closer to him with a couple of steps. “you went through a traumatic event. You need to talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk.” Mike replied, crossing his arms. He was fairly certain that what he _didn’t_ need was willingly relive the attempted robbery, thank you very much.

But Donna, of course, wasn’t going to let that go. Mike felt a rush of sympathy for Harvey that, emotionally constipated as he was, had spent like fifteen years of his life with that woman.

“But you _need_ to.” Donna said. “Keeping it all inside is-”

“I’d like to be alone.” Mike cut her off.

Donna frowned, opening her mouth, probably to protest, but Mike didn’t want to hear any of it, not right now: “Please. I want you to leave.”

“You can’t avoid this.” Donna warned.

Mike breathed, nodding briefly. He wasn’t planning to avoid it forever, the rational part of his mind knew perfectly well that, sooner or later, he would have had to face his own demons. But he was going to do his best to procrastinate as much as possible.

“Bye, Donna.” He said, turning his back on her hoping that it would be enough for her to decide to let it go.

“Fine.” Donna replied. She didn’t sound pleased.

Mike heard her heading towards the door and after she shut it the apartment was silent again. Mike took a deep breath, feeling somehow bothered by the conversation they just had. He was irritated and angry and annoyed, as if she had tried to violate him somehow.

He knew that she was just trying to help and that he didn’t have to be angry at her, but this didn’t make the feeling go away: it was frustrating instead, because if he had been right to be angry he could have lashed out on Donna.

Mike threw himself over the couch, rubbing his face with his hands and feeling claustrophobic at the mere thought of working or doing something productive. Fuck it, he was going to watch a movie and play cards on his pc.

 

 

-

 

“Mike.”

Mike was sitting on the couch, contemplating the turned off TV as he attempted to convince himself to go to sleep, instead of looking for something decent to watch until the following morning.

For a second, he felt panic tensing his muscles at the sound of his name. Then he realized that Harvey sounded more demanding than in distress.

Mike stood up, secretly glad for the company, as much as temporary, and he headed towards Harvey’s room.

“Yeah?” he said, without actually stepping in.

Harvey hesitated, swallowing a couple of times before any sign of vulnerability disappeared from his face as he snorted: “Get your ass in here.”

Mike blinked. His mind immediately went to Harvey’s body next to his under the sheets, his steady breath comforting him in the silence of the night. Harvey couldn’t possible mean what he thought he meant.

“Where?” Mike asked, slowly.

Harvey dramatically rolled his eyes. Mike noticed that his reaction was really too exaggerated: he seemed uncomfortable. He probably would have appreciated the moment more hadn’t he been too busy trying to suffocate the hope to not be left alone during the night while at the same time attempting to make his heart stop racing.

“In the _bed_ , you idiot.” Harvey replied. “I thought I had hired you for your brain.”

“I- Yeah. Alright. Yeah.” Mike stumbled on his own words, still trying to bring himself to actually believe that Harvey had just asked him to sleep in his bed. _Again_. And he hadn’t even found him sitting next to his bed this time, it had been spontaneous. “I’ll just- I’ll turn off the light.”

As stupid as he felt, Mike headed out of the bedroom and completed the task as quickly as possible, afraid that Harvey would change his mind any moment. When he was done, Harvey was still there, his eyes wandering around the room and strategically not stopping to meet Mike’s.

“Just because I don’t want to wake up to you staring at me.” Harvey stated when Mike slid under the covers. “It’s creepy.”

Mike grinned. “Can’t I be your personal Edward Cullen?”

“Hell _no_.”

He sounded absolutely horrified. It wasn’t even that funny, but Mike felt all the tension in his body rushing through a deep, probably a little hysterical, laugh. He had just been so distressed at the thought of having to go through the night alone, and he had just avoided that trip through the darkest corners of his mind.

“Thank you, Harvey.” He said, as soon as he was able to stop laughing.

“Tomorrow, don’t make me ask.” Harvey simply replied.

Mike smiled.

 

 

-

 

“Shit.” Harvey mumbled, glaring at his shoulder as if it would have been possible to scare it enough to convince it to not ache anymore.

“You did great.” Mike stated. He was a little afraid that the sentiment was out of place, even if researching he had found out that a good way to help a friend who had to recover from a shooting was to verbally offer support and to vouch your pride for their improvements, but after all it was the truth anyway.

Mike hadn’t been sure if Harvey would have minded him watching during rehab, he kind of assumed that he would feel self-conscious knowing that someone other than the doctor was watching him, but when the doctor had seen them arriving together and he had commented “Oh, good, having a partner or a relative assist at least the first times is a big help.”, Harvey hadn’t protested nor shown any sign of discomfort at the idea of him staying.

To be fair, he had glanced at Mike at those words, but nothing further, and Mike knew him well enough to pick up his tells when he truly wanted to be left alone. And he was pretty sure that Harvey could and would have requested for him to be sent out had he wanted to.

Harvey had worked really hard, the doctor himself had been really pleased by his stubbornness and efforts. It was no wonder that, now that they were heading home, his arm was giving him Hell.

“Yeah, sure.” Harvey muttered, ironically, leaning his head against the backseat. Mike imagined that it was pretty frustrating to have to put so much effort into movements that used to be extremely simple.

“Since you have been a good boy, we can watch Star Trek tonight.” Mike tried to light up the mood, grinning.

Harvey cracked a slight smile at that. Mission accomplished.

 

 

-

 

“I’m not saying Kirk isn’t a great character, it’s just that Spock-”

“I don’t want to hear another _word_.” Harvey interrupted him, putting his now empty plate on the coffee table in front of them. “Captain Kirk _is the man_.”

Mike rolled his eyes.

They had decided to watch a Star Trek movie every other day: it was the second evening that they were doing it and they were falling again into the same argument. It wasn’t that Mike believed that Captain Kirk wasn’t awesome, he just liked Spock better. But apparently that wasn’t acceptable.

“And you are living in _my_ house, so _my_ rules.” Harvey added, leaning against the couch smoothly.

“Well,” Mike pointed out. “considering that all my things are in here, it’s kind of my house too.”

“But it’s not letterhead to you, is it?” Harvey asked, raising his eyebrows.

Mike was about to jokingly comment on the fact that people who love each other should share stuff, what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours etc., but he had barely started to form the sentence when they heard a loud blow coming from only God knew where.

Mike’s brain immediately connected it to a gun and he felt his body freezing, as someone in his head shouted to get down and called his name and his eyes were immediately on Harvey because, shit, he couldn’t bear to see him lying in a pool of his own blood again- Part of Mike wondered if that someone shouting his name was Harvey, because it was a matter of seconds before Mike found himself being pushed down on Harvey’s legs by his good arm, his torso weighting on Mike as a shield.

Mike’s hand had instinctively grabbed Harvey’s upper sleeve, trying to pull him down too, to make him hide behind the couch or something.

Mike’s ears were pricked, ready to capture any sound, any shout, any _sign_ that there was another gunman ready to take them down. He didn’t know how much time they spent pressed together on the couch, staying as still as possible as if any moment could have blown them up. Mike just knew that his breathing was too heavy, his eyes were burning and the hand gripping Harvey’s sleeve was shaking badly, as his mind had trapped him in an infinite loop of Harvey getting shot.

But Harvey was alive, Mike could feel his chest moving even too fast against the back of his neck, he was _alive_.

“Are- Are you okay?” Mike whispered, his voice thin and shaking. He needed to hear it from him, he needed reassurance beyond what was reasonable to send the memory of Harvey’s blood away.

“I’m fine.” Harvey replied. He had talked a little too fast but he didn’t seem to have any difficulties breathing. Mike sighed in relief, while Harvey slowly released the weight on him, straightening up to leave him the room to do the same. Mike sat up, but he didn’t loosen his grip on Harvey’s upper sleeve.

Harvey was looking around, frantically, watching out for a threat that didn’t seem to be coming. Mike’s eyes where still burning and his heart was racing. He wanted to cry his fear out.

“I don’t think it was a – Mike swallowed – gunshot.”

“Probably not.” Harvey agreed.

A few seconds passed in silence, and Mike was still ready to jump at the first anomaly registered by his ears.

“I could have sworn- I was really convinced that it was a gun.” Harvey said, swallowing. His eyes were wide, focused on Mike now. “I was-”

“Terrorized.” Mike supplied, nodding slightly. Harvey nodded back, just once. “Me too.”

Harvey moved his arm, making Mike understand that he wanted him to stop grabbing his sleeve. Then he opened his arm to invite him to come closer. Mike didn’t even question him: he shifted closer, exhaling as Harvey’s arm gripped his shoulders and resting his hand on Harvey’s chest, to feel his heart racing too.

They stayed in silence long enough for both of them to calm down.

“I was scared out of my mind.” Mike interrupted the quiet atmosphere they had slipped in.

“You mentioned that.” Harvey replied. That hint of sarcasm reassured Mike that everything was fine, that no big damage had been done.

“I mean… That day. When you were actually- shot.” Mike clarified, glancing at Harvey, whose jaw tightened.

“I know it’s my fault.” Mike went on. “If you had- If you had _died_ that day… Because of _me_ … I don’t know what I would have done.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Harvey replied. “Stop being a martyr.”

“Says the guy who likes to be the human shield in this relationship.” Mike muttered. In spite of his attempt at teasing, that thought was incredibly scary.

“I don’t want you to stay here because you think this is all your fault. I can hire someone to make my bed in the morning, you know.” Harvey stated, and he sounded pretty bitter, enough for Mike to realize that he was _actually_ worried that the only reason why Mike was taking care of him was guilt.

“It’s not like that.” Mike immediately replied. “I was here before the shooting.”

“The package didn’t include becoming a nurse back then.” Harvey grunted. Mike could feel his muscles tensing.

He shrugged. “I don’t mind helping. You have been saving me since the day we met, basically, I- Uh… I am happy I get to do something for you, for a change.”

Harvey stayed silent.

Mike didn’t move.

“When he was eight,” Harvey said after a while. Mike glanced at his face, only to find out that his eyes were lost in his memories. “my brother had an accident. Nothing too serious- Just big blow to the head. He was bleeding like crazy and I was terrified.”

Mike nodded to let him know that he was listening, but he didn’t say anything, afraid that interrupting would make Harvey change his mind on sharing whatever he was about to share.

“When they realised him from the hospital, I slept into or next to his bed for- I don’t know, I don’t remember how long. I just needed to be sure that he was okay to not be tormented by nightmares of all that blood.”

“I know the feeling.” Mike muttered before he could stop himself. Shit. He hoped he hadn’t ruined the moment, every bit of himself that Harvey decided to share with him was to be cherished.

Harvey, fortunately, didn’t seem bothered by the interruption.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “But I grew out of it. In time.”

Mike grinned. “So this is basically your way of telling me that sooner or later you want me out of your bed?”

Harvey grinned back, appearing glad that the mood had been lightened up a bit.

“It’s more comfortable than the couch.” He pointed out, after a couple of seconds.

Mike blinked. “Yeah…”

“And it does have room for two.”

“I guess…”

Harvey didn’t add anything, and Mike decided that he wouldn’t move out of the bed then, not until Harvey made him understand that he wasn’t welcome anymore.

“Are you having nightmares too?” Mike asked. Since Harvey seemed prone to sharing, he wouldn’t waste the opportunity. “About what happened?”

“A couple.” Harvey replied. “They’ll pass.”

“Yeah.” A pause. “Don’t you ever do it again.”

“You can bet your ass I won’t. I am way behind with my work thanks to this forced leave. And _Louis_ is handling half of _my_ clients.” Harvey replied.

Mike grinned. In the back of his mind, Mike knew that Harvey would do it again, he had just done something similar on that couch, after all. He could feel a subtle fear lingering on his mind, the terror that a situation like that would occur again and he would lose Harvey for real this time, not just come close to it. He had been honest earlier: he had no idea what he would have done if he had lost Harvey too. Harvey was a constant and Mike trusted that he would always be there for him. But what if something happened that would just take him away? What then?

“People don’t leave me, Mike.” Harvey interrupted his thoughts. “And I make a point of not leaving people either.”

What the Hell, had he been reading his mind?

“No, you are just predictable and I read people for a living.” Harvey sighed, with playful superiority.

Mike nodded, attempting a smile that came out bitter. “But what if something takes you away?”

“Harvey Specter doesn’t go anywhere he doesn’t want to.” Harvey replied in a heartbeat.

Mike slightly shook his head, smiling in disbelief. What a douche, talking about himself in third person. “Then I guess the trip to the hospital was scheduled?” Mike joked.

“All part of my plan to get you into my bed.” Harvey grinned.

Mike chuckled slightly, his muscles more relaxed, his head resting against Harvey’s arm. Harvey kept grinning, and Mike could feel that he wasn’t tense anymore. Mike was staring at his face, at his eyes glimmering playfully and smiling alongside with his mouth. He was beautiful and very much _alive_. He was sitting close to Mike, and he didn’t seem to have any intention of leaving him – had he ever, actually?

He let himself believe that Harvey would really fight tooth and nail to not forsake him. And, as he had been reminded way more times than it was necessary, Harvey always won his fights.


End file.
